Aging Stage

My mother has been aging a long time and maybe at 90 it is time to come out and say it.

Forgive me, Mom.

She's old.

But I don't see it. When I talk to Mom, when I look at Mom, I see regular Mom with her beautiful blue eyes and vibrant face.

I too, am doing something that some might call aging. I prefer ageless and timeless as a description, but that's not what I see in the mirror. A melting candle? Grandpa Simpson?

Advertisement - Continue Reading Below

Here is the most upsetting thing. My dog, Lausche is aging. What I can't see in my mother's face, what I brush past as I dash by my own reflection, I see in the face of my little Lausche, my symbiotic companion for the last nine years.

She's a tiny thing and well taken care of, and little dogs are presumed to have a longer lifespan than bigger breeds.

So I'm not even thinking about that. You betcha, no way. I am just observing the passage of time in my dog as she struts the living room runway. My interests are purely cosmetic.

Most Popular

The black mask that surrounded her eyes is almost white, now, and her eyebrows––you know dogs have them!––are not as high contrast as they used to be. Her eyeliner is still bold, like me and Cleopatra, but her snowy white legs are freckled and worn and sometimes she needs help getting up on the chair.

I don't agree that we old, grey mares ain't what we used to be. I think we're everything we were and more of it.